


Hospital Beds

by Venticelli



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Freak Show
Genre: Doctor - Freeform, Doctors, Gen, Guns, Hospital, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venticelli/pseuds/Venticelli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little in between for time that passed between the clown feeling his lowest and then getting even lower. It's something that not even excellent bedside manner can fix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hospital Beds

**Author's Note:**

> Not much to say other than that my headcanon name for Twisty is "Samuel James Ellison", called Sam or Sammy by friends. Well, he would be if he had any friends.

It was…bright. Unnaturally so, and for a moment Sam’s heart leapt for joy at the thought that maybe he had been successful. Could these be those bright lights that he had always heard people talking about? But the more the world came into focus, the more he realized that this bright light was not that of heaven but of just a run of the mill electric lights in the ceiling he was staring up at. He probably should have known that the lights of the ethereal plain wouldn't hum like that. No, right then he realized then that he was most unfortunately _alive_.

Well, if that wasn’t a mood killer then he didn’t know what was.

How exactly he’d ended up in this place, a hospital he assumed, was a mystery. Well, he knew he  _must_ have failed in actually blowing his brains out since he was quite obviously still corporeal, and he knew someone  _must_  have found him. Probably some poor idiot out wandering in the part of the swamps that they shouldn't have. Finding him must have been a horrid sight, but Sam couldn't help but feel more sorry for himself. Still, he could piece together only so much, and as his senses came fully back to him things were not getting clearer, but they were getting worse. His fingers twitched, and he was suddenly aware of the gauze wrapped around the bottom half of his face. He went to touch it lightly only to find that it gave under the lightest touch.

There was nothing there, and his heart sped up for a second time. He brought both hands up and touched what was left of the sides of his face and dragged them down, muffled sounds of agony coming up from his throat along with a hoarse sobbing sound. It must have been loud. He couldn’t tell. Everything hurt, and he felt deaf. But a nurse ran in along with another and pulled his hands away from his face, saying soothing words that did nothing other than quiet him. Sam’s mind was still on fire with grief and distress, and his hands clenched into fists as he pounded the mattress.

And oh, how he wished he was dead. How could he have messed up so badly? To leave himself in such a state. Maybe he was a fool, a damned fool with half a face and raw skin that stung if he breathed wrong. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. This wasn’t the plan, but he’d messed it up. He’d messed it all up. As usual.

Eventually, the nurses let go of his arms, but he wasn’t fighting anymore. They say him up and changed his bandages, and he averted his eyes from the bloody sight of them. The room was cold upon raw skin and mangled teeth, and all he could feel was a heaviness in his chest. It felt more of exhaustion than sadness.

Not long after, the doctor walked in to find him hunched over, eyes focused on some fixed point near his knees. He didn’t even move as the old doctor placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Seems you had yourself a nasty accident.”

 The man’s voice was friendly, but he couldn’t appreciate it or the friendly touch. _An accident?_ Was he referring to the fact that his patient wasn’t dead or the fact that he didn’t know what had happened. Same thought for a moment to be honest, but he was nodding his head before he could find a way to explain himself in his new state. Turning his head slowly, he could see that the doctor hardly looked convinced.

Or maybe that was just his imagination.

“I see…” There was a painful pause, and Sam felt the man place something next to him on the bed. He looked over and saw a new notebook and pen. “I think that should make things a lot easier when you feel like talking. You’re very lucky, you know. Lucky the shot didn’t kill you and lucky someone was close enough to hear. Yes, few men are as lucky as you.”

Sam quickly picked up the pen and opened up the notebook to the first page, writing quickly.

_“I don’t know if I’d call it luck.”_


End file.
